Flashflood

A phone is ringing. Gary, a youngish black man, rolls over and answers it.

GARY
Who this?

CAMERA GOES TO RAY, BUT WE ONLY SEE HIS MOUTH.

RAY
Mornin Gary. Have you seen the weather report?

CAMERA GOES BACK TO GARY.

GARY
Say what?

RAY
Turn on channel 7.

Gary sits up. Looks at the clock, it’s 5:30 am.

GARY
(laughingly)
This Ray? Fool, you know what time it is?

CAMERA IS BACK ON RAY’S PHONE. PANS OUT TO REVEAL A TIGHT, MESSY MOBILE HOME LIVING ROOM, DARK EXCEPT FOR A TV WITH A WEATHERMAN ON IT. THERE IS A HUGE, DRAMATICALLY SPIRALING STORM MOVING ONTO THE NORTHERN WEST COAST, IN THE AREA OF OREGON AND NORTHERN CALIFORNIA.

RAY
Just turn on the TV.

BACK TO GARY’S TRAILER.
Gary finds the remote, turns on the TV and flips to channel 7. The weatherman and the storm appear.

WEATHERMAN
… in a south-westerly direction. See these big arms here? Well these arms have been drawing in all this cold air from up North, so we can expect a pretty smart cold front to be coming in with this thing. Everyone North of Eureka and South of Eugene should be on the look-out for isolated snow and hail storms as well as the rain, pretty much for all of tomorrow afternoon into Tuesday morning and maybe even Tuesday afternoon. This is a significant system here, and I expect there to be flash-flood warnings all up and down the coastal areas. Don’t even think about driving on Highway 101 after about 11:00 tomorrow, cause boy, you might just get washed into the ocean. If we were in Michigan, well, than all our kids would be bouncing off the walls, cause we’d have us a snow day. Take this one seriously, folks.

RAY
You watching this?

GARY
(smiling)
Yeah. I’m watching. This is it, ain’t it?

RAY
I think so.

GARY
What you need me to do?

RAY
Call your friends. Tell them to get their shit together. That shit we talked about.

GARY
Aight

RAY
You remember that place I told you about?

GARY
Yeah.

RAY
The shed, near the old paper factory outside Grangeville. 5 miles off 101.

GARY
Yeah.

RAY
We all meet there at noon. Sharp.

GARY
Aight. That it? We ready?

RAY
We ready alright. More than ready. I’ll see you there. Bring your game face.

GARY
Aight.

They hang up. Gary leans towards the TV. He judges the distance on the map of California and puts his finger on a spot on the coast, right in the middle of the storm. Leans back, shaking his head appreciatively.

GARY (CONT’D)
(excitedly)
This gonna be some crazy shit.

WEATHERMAN
… Me, I’m gonna use this storm as a chance to catch up with the wife and kids. We’re gonna have us a nice family board game day. I suggest all you out there do the same, though if you got to go out, please, drive carefully. And if you are gonna try to make it to Floyd’s Seafood to watch, get there early. I expect old Floyd’s’ll be mighty busy.

GARY
(grinning)
Damn right.

Picks up his phone and dials.

GARY (CONT’D)
Blue. Wake your ass up. We got us some work.

INT. LISA’S KITCHEN. MORNING
Lisa, a beautiful dark-eyed girl of about 26, is washing dishes. She’s looking out the window at a black SUV that’s pulling out of her driveway. The phone rings. Lisa answers it and carries it on her shoulder to the table where she’s cleaning up a breakfast for two.

Cut back and forth between Floyd and Lisa. Floyd is in his office, a cramped and crowded room with about 10 security camera monitors above his desk, boxes lining the walls, and files piled all around. There is also a large black safe in the corner. Floyd is hunched forward at his desk, speaking intently, rubbing his eyes like he has a hangover.

Lisa is driving a small Toyota Tercel. The wipers are flailing wildly, but through the rain it’s still hard to see the road, which periodically bends and turns sharply. The Highway follows the coastline directly, right up against the edge of the cliff, bordered by a guardrail on that side, and by hilly forest on the other. At one point the highway dips into water that is streaming down the hillside, and the water splashes up over the Tercel. Lisa, managing the stick-shift expertly, slows, but doesn’t stop. She passes a big, colorful road sign with a cartoon picture of a smiling, bib-wearing lobster sitting at a table holding a fork and knife. There is a view of the ocean behind him, and the legend above him says “Floyd’s Seafood Restaurant and Resort, 10 miles.” Below that sign is a smaller state sign reading “Port Oxford — 58 miles.”

CUT TO:
EXT. FLOYD’S SEAFOOD RESTAURANT AND RESORT

Floyd’s Seafood Restaurant is a huge, three-storey restaurant built into and directly into the cliff-face. It is connected to Highway 101, and to a few other buildings (hotels, a dock, and recreational facilities) by a network of stairs interrupted by landings with railings, and steel tables built directly into them. The restaurant faces the ocean through one giant, reinforced window, well-lit and uninterrupted by the multiple stories. “Floyd’s Seafood Restaurant and Resort” is prominently displayed at the top of the stairs leading from the highway.

INT. FLOYD’S SEAFOOD RESTAURANT AND RESORT
The restaurant is busy. The three levels are built right up to the window, but leaving about three feet between the levels and the window, divided from the empty space by a railing. Nearest the window are the viewing areas, and dozens of customers are crowded up against the railing on each level, watching the storm. Many of them have cameras. The viewing areas are sunken, and stairs lead up to the tables, with about 30 on each level, all of which appear to be full. Waiters and waitresses in black uniforms are taking orders, while bus-boys and food runners in green uniforms are bustling around furiously. The dishes, many of them well-manicured lobster or oyster, look expensive. The money is left for the waiters in black check-books, and when the waiters open them there is lots of money in them, with many 20s, 50s and 100s. The cashier area is on the bottom level, connected to the bar, which has about 12 stools, most of them occupied. The owner, Floyd, a charismatic man with a wedding ring on his left hand and the high-strung air of hard-earned success about him, is working the bar alongside the regular bartender Jamie, a lively young girl. Stuart, a journalist who knows his craft well and takes a certain joy out of prodding people, is seated in front of Floyd, drinking a beer. He has a note-pad open in front of him in which he periodically jots something down.

STUART
Well Floyd, it seems like you cram one more body into this place it’ll burst.

FLOYD
You’re right about that. We’re busy, just how I like it.

STUART
Is it always like this?

FLOYD
No, on a regular day we get a more manageable amount of customers. Storms bring in the biggest numbers. And more so with each one.

STUART
Word’s getting out.

FLOYD
That’s right.

The front door opens and four more customers enter. Torrential rain follows them, and the hostess ushers the customers in quickly and shuts the door after them. Stuart smiles and shakes his head.

STUART
And they’re still coming. These are brave souls here, willing to drive in that.

FLOYD
Oh I figure we got another few minutes before 101 gets impassable.

STUART
(shakes his head, smiling) And you came up with this.

FLOYD
Not on purpose.

STUART
What do you mean?

FLOYD
The first Floyd Seafood’s was just a restaurant with an ocean view, just like any other. The storm trade was my wife’s idea.

STUART
The storm trade?

FLOYD
Yeah. The multiple floors, the huge windows and everything extra-reinforced. Less restaurant, more resort. She got the idea when we had to hole up for a sudden downpour, and everybody crowded around the windows to watch.

STUART
So this was your wife’s idea?

FLOYD
She also lined up the investors. She comes from a good family, they knew who to talk to. We got the right people lined up and we built our modest little joint up into what you see here today.

STUART
Is she here now?

FLOYD
No.

STUART
Does she come into the restaurant often?

FLOYD
No, she works from home mostly. She’s the brains behind the operation, I’m the brawn.

STUART
Does that chafe at you at all?

FLOYD
What?

STUART
I don’t know, you doing all the work, her enjoying it?

FLOYD
Hey, I’d rather be doing this than staying inside, hunched over a desk all day.

STUART
How come?

FLOYD
Office work? Shit. Where’s the adventure in that?

STUART
(laughs, writes)
Adventure? That’s good. Not many people’s first priority these days.

DIANE
(following him to the waiting areas)
I don’t know. Something about his son’s allergies. I think he told Mary to hold the peanuts and she missed it. Or something.

FLOYD
Does he need a doctor?

DIANE
I don’t think so, I don’t think he’d eaten it yet, they’re just pissed off and hungry. Mary’s kind of flipping, she can’t handle it when it’s like this. I bet her whole section’s fucked up.

FLOYD
Well, you help her out. I’ll deal with Mr. Hollywood.

DIANE
Floyd, I got a million other things to do.

FLOYD
Just help her catch up Diane. I got a few extras for the dinner shift. George, Kim and Lisa are coming in anytime now.

DIANE
(smiles sympathetically)
Lisa, huh? You know she worked the last storm?

FLOYD
And she was good. Those long shifts are hard. I need people who can go the distance.

DIANE
(laughs slightly)

FLOYD
What? You got something to say?

DIANE
No sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.

FLOYD
There’s nothing to laugh at.

DIANE
Ah Floyd. (hugs him briefly) You know, if you weren’t married the two of you might’ve made a great couple.

FLOYD
Diane, you’re not my fucking marriage counselor.

Diane starts, and stands back as they arrive at the third level and Floyd heads towards John’s table, where he, his wife, and his son are eating. Mary, a pretty, but obviously frazzled, young girl, is arguing with John Barry, who is angry.

JOHN
(gesturing)
And now my whole meal’s ruined. Look at this. He’s crying. We’ve been waiting for over an hour. We’re hungry, and it’s not like we can get up and go have a picnic, now is it?

FLOYD
The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Barry. I recognized you from your films. (to Mary) You can get back to your other duties, Mary. (she leaves, giving him a thankful look)

JOHN
Hey, wait, I’m not done with her. She could’ve given my son an allergic reaction.

FLOYD
I’m very sorry about that, sir. She’s only been here a few weeks, we’re still breaking her in.

JOHN
Well that girl still needs a lot of breaking. You all have to be more mindful of goddamn health concerns.

FLOYD
I’m very sorry, sir, really. (yells) Hey, Diane, come here.

DIANE
Yes, Floyd?

FLOYD
This table’s eating a round on me, okay? And for desert…(tussles John’s Son’s hair) What kind of ice cream do you like, buddy?

JOHN’S SON
Double chocolate fudge sundaes!

FLOYD
Okay. You finish your food, and this young lady will bring you a double chocolate fudge sundae. Hope you can finish it.

JOHN
Well, thanks. That’s very generous of you.

FLOYD
It’s no problem, Mr. Barry. If my people make a mistake I’ll answer for it. I only have one condition.

JOHN
What’s that?

FLOYD
(squats next to John, puts his arm around him)
Try to get that chip off your shoulder.

JOHN
Chip?

FLOYD
Yeah, you have a chip on your shoulder that I could see from the stairs. Did you hear the weather report this morning?

JOHN
Don’t talk to me like that. You messed up my son’s food. If he’d have eaten that…

FLOYD
Did you hear the weather report?

JOHN
Of course I did.

FLOYD
Than you know, that storm out the window is gonna last a lot longer than your meal. If we want to make it enjoyable, everybody in this restaurant is going to have to exercise a little patience. Now we’re gonna be doing all we can to keep you and your family happy and comfortable, and I just want us all to start off on the right foot. I don’t want you to feel put off. So this meal’s one condition is that you try to enjoy it. Here, we can shake on it. Free meal, right? Desert for your kid, right? No allergies, right? So, no grudges, no animosity (smiling, puts his hand out). Deal?

John shakes his hand.

JOHN
(a little cheered)
That’s fair.

FLOYD
Thanks. (claps him on the shoulder) Your son’s plate, peanut-free, should be here any minute. Enjoy the view.

Floyd leaves the table and heads for the stairs. Mary walks up to him.

Cobb, a scruffy, tattooed man is driving, and Ray is sitting in the passenger seat. The storm is in full swing. They turn off the road onto a muddy rock path that leads to an old rusty shed. Cobb parks in front of the shed.

COBB
Where are they?

RAY
They’ll be here. We’re early.

Cobb is nervous. He fidgets, scratches his tattoo anxiously.

COBB
I don’t like it none, Ray.

RAY
What?

COBB
Okay. I’ll say it. I don’t like fuckin niggers man.

RAY
(sighs)
Cobb shut the fuck up.

COBB
How you know these guys?

RAY
I jailed with Gary in county lock-up.

COBB
He’s from here?

RAY
No, from California. Same with his friends. They’re city boys. L.A., Oakland, I’m not sure.

RAY
(dejectedly, irritated with his brother)
I’ve thought all this shit through. They won’t have no chance to. Besides, if we do this right, there’s gonna be plenty for everyone.

COBB
I don’t trust fuckin niggers, man. Don’t you remember high school? Those black kids used to beat on you any chance they got.

RAY
These guys aren’t kids.

COBB
You think that makes a difference? They aren’t to be trusted.

RAY
Well who says I trust them? Look, Cobb, this ain’t high school, this ain’t some night at the bar, this ain’t got nothing to do with where we came from. This is a serious thing we’re doing.

COBB
I don’t fuckin like it.

RAY
Well you’re fuckin in it, and you better be ready to do whatever you have to. Listen to me, Cobb, this thing here… It don’t matter who you are at home, okay. It don’t matter who you trust or who you don’t. It don’t matter if you hate niggers. When we get to Floyd’s none of that matters. All that’ll matter is we gotta be professionals. That means we gotta be calculated and we gotta be rough. These guys won’t have no problem with that, believe you me.

Ray looks at Cobb scornfully.

RAY (CONT’D)
Damn. And I don’t care if you are my brother, you better not fuck this up for me.

They fall silent. Cobb is fidgety. A car pulls up behind them. Three black guys, Gary, Blue and Willis, get out of it and pile into the back-seat of Ray’s car. Blue is older, grizzled and mostly silent, while Willis is young and with a vicious, mischievous smile.

GARY
Goddamn, where the hell are we? I ain’t never seen rain like this.

COBB
You’re late.

BLUE
Aw hell no.

GARY
Say what, white boy?

COBB
I said, you’re late. It look like noon to you?

RAY
Shut the fuck up Cobb.

GARY
Ray, who the fuck is this?

COBB
I’m Ray’s brother, and when we say we want you here at noon we mean fuckin noon.

RAY
(while punching Cobb)Goddammit, shut the fuck up, Cobb.

Cobb begins to fight back, but Ray, who is stronger and obviously used to fighting with his brother, traps him against his chair.

COBB
(whimpering)
But Ray…

RAY
Shut up, Cobb. Shut up.

Cobb is silent. He looks at Ray pleadingly. Ray hugs him and speaks softly and tenderly to him.

RAY (CONT’D)
Look, bro, you aren’t calling any shots here. I love you. You know I love you. But if you can’t do this we here just might get the idea that we don’t need you. You know what I’m saying?

COBB
You don’t mean it.

RAY
I do mean it. I’m deadly serious. This is life and death we’re dealing in here. Show the proper respect.

The three in the back exchange snickers and laughing looks.

GARY
I think white boy needs spend a few minutes alone with us. Shape his ass right up.

RAY
Drop it, Gary. Shit’s not important. Cobb’s good people. You bring what I asked?

GARY
Sure did.

RAY
Where’re they?

GARY
In the car.

RAY
Go get them. Park your car in that shed when you’re done.

GARY
(motions to Willis)
Go on.

Willis gets out of Ray’s car and goes to their own. He opens the back seat and takes out a large red gym bag, which is bulky and, by the way he carries it, heavy. Ray gets out of the car and opens the trunk for him. There are chainsaws, chains, hooks, hatchets and tarps. Willis drops the bag into the back next to them, and it lands heavily with a sound of metals. Ray opens the door to the shed and Willis drives it in and parks it. As they get back into the SUV:

WILLIS
What’s all them chain-saws for?

RAY
In case we run into debris on the way. Gun it, Cobb.

Cobb starts the engine and pulls them onto the road.

RAY (CONT’D)
Alright yall. We got about a fifty mile drive to Floyd’s. It’s a pretty bad storm though. This is where Cobb here earns his keep.

GARY
(to Blue and Willis)
Where we all get to relax a bit. Willis, you appreciate the drive.

WILLIS
Shit, we’ve been driving all night. I don’t know how much more I can appreciate.

GARY
Appreciate mother nature, young man. Rarely do we get to see her like this.

They drive down the road onto Highway 101. Pan over ocean and storm, which is markedly worse.

CUT TO:
INT. LISA’S CAR.

Lisa is pulling into the parking lot at Floyd’s Restaurant, which is tucked against the highway and is equipped with flood guards and a sturdy roof. Lightning flashes periodically and thunder rolls. After parking her car she turns around in her seat and we see a backpack and a shoulder bag in the back seat, both stuffed. She opens the backpack and takes out a black handbag. She opens it and looks into it for a moment. She takes a deep breath and then shuts it again. She takes a cell phone out of her pocket, flips it open, and texts: (”I’m at work. Everything’s gonna be okay. Don’t call me.”) Sends it to a number, not a name.

She pulls on a raincoat, flips up the hood, and gets out of the car, carrying the handbag under her coat. She makes her way down the stairs leading from the parking lot, which are layered with black rubber mats for easy footholds, passing Floyd’s restaurant on her left, which is built against the hillside, sloping downward with it. Customers gawk at her through the windows, admiring how easily she does it. The wind is obviously strong. She bursts through the doors into the restaurant. Diane is standing at the hostess podium.

DIANE
Hey Lisa. You made it.

LISA
Just barely.

DIANE
How is it out there?

LISA
It’s pretty rough. Those stairs have gotten real scary.
Diane nods at a digital scoreboard of sorts, positioned above the bar which is tracking the storm statistics.

DIANE
Windspeeds are 70 miles per hour, 54 degrees celsius, and rainfall’s at 5 inches an hour. Estimated time of passing: 13 hours.

LISA
Well it doesn’t sound so bad when you say it like that.

DIANE
You’re the first to show up for your shift.

LISA
I thought I’d have to get here early. 101 was almost flooded over by Grangeville.

DIANE
Really I’m surprised you came at all.

LISA
Oh, well, storms do bring in the most money. Are people still ordering?

DIANE
It’s slacked off a bit. Most the customers are just watching right now. You just gave them a bit of a thrill yourself. Some weren’t sure you’d make it.

LISA
(looking over Dianes shoulder at the seating chart)
Still enough for me?

DIANE
Oh sure. Talk to Mary. She’s had a rough shift, I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to hand it over.

LISA
Thanks Diane.

DIANE
No problem.

Lisa starts walking away. Then turns back.

LISA
Is Floyd in today?

DIANE
Of course.

LISA
Where is he?

DIANE
He was just here. Try his office.

LISA
I need to talk to him.

DIANE
Well you know what to do.

Lisa nods and walks towards the kitchen. Diane turns her attention back to the podium. Danny, a young waiter, approaches her.

DANNY
Who was that?

DIANE
That’s Lisa.

DANNY
She’s quite a looker.

DIANE
Don’t even think about it. That girl’s trouble.

DANNY
That’s alright. Trouble’s my middle name.

Diane laughs, shakes her head and turns her attention back to the seating chart.

CUT TO:
INT. STEAMY KITCHEN. ABOUT 20 WORKERS BUSTLING AROUND.

Lisa makes her way through the kitchen, nodding and smiling at a couple workers on the way. She heads towards a staircase in the back. She walks up the stairs and comes to a heavy security door. She presses the bell, then stands back and looks up into a camera that is pointed down at the staircase.
Shot: Lisa looking into the black and white camera monitor. Pan out to reveal Floyd looking back at her. Floyd is working on a form when he sees Lisa in the camera. He looks tired, and rubs his temples.

FLOYD
Oh boy.

Floyd presses a button under his desk. The door unlocks with a buzz. Lisa opens it and enters.

FLOYD
What’s up, Lisa?

LISA
I just got here. I’m early.

FLOYD
I saw you on the cameras. Thanks for coming in. It got rough faster than I thought. I’m not sure if anyone else’ll make it.

LISA
I came in here for another reason. I’m quitting. This is my last day.

FLOYD
What?

LISA
I just thought you should know. Sign me my last check before I leave please.

FLOYD
What are you going to do?

LISA
What? You think I can’t do anything else?

FLOYD
You’ve been here a long time.

LISA
Four years. Four years too long.

FLOYD
I’m so sorry.

LISA
Stop saying that. Why should I care if you’re sorry. I’m leaving this job, I’m leaving the county. I’m out of here. You’re never gonna see me again.

FLOYD
Where are you going?

LISA
I’m not telling you.

FLOYD
Why not?

LISA
Cause you don’t need to know. I don’t want you to find me again, just so you can torture me and then dump me.

FLOYD
I didn’t mean to torture you. I loved being with you.

LISA
You have nothing to say to me. Okay?

FLOYD
Okay.

Lisa opens the door. Then she turns back.

LISA
You have one more chance. I’m not gone to you yet. This day is your last chance. If you say the word I’ll go with you. I hope you know that. We won’t need this place, we won’t need your wife or her joint ownership. I’d make you happy.

She exits, wiping her eyes with quick flicks of her hand. Floyd shuts the door after her. He sits at his desk and buries his face in his hands.
Lisa brushes past Diane at the foot of the stairs. Diane looks after her, then heads up the stairs and rings Floyd’s door and looks up into the monitor.

DIANE
Floyd! Floyd! (rings again) We need you on the floor.

There’s no answer.

DIANE
Floyd. Look. Get downstairs as soon as you can, we need help.

She exits down the stairs. Floyd’s door remains closed.

INT. FLOYD’S SEAFOOD, 3RD FLOOR.

Lisa drops her black handbag at a wait station, then approaches Mary, touches her on the shoulder.

LISA
Hey Mary.

MARY
(stressed out and frazzled)
Hey Lisa.

LISA
I heard you could use some relief.

MARY
Oh God yes.

LISA
Alright girl, take a breather.

MARY
You’re a godsend. This job is a killer.

LISA
Yeah it is.

The tables have emptied a bit, except for Lisa’s section, and many customers are now in the viewing area. Workers are moving tables to the walls and stacking them, then bringing out smaller coffee tables and couches.

INT. FLOYD’S SEAFOOD, 1ST FLOOR.

Diane returns to the hostess podium, looking distracted. Stuart is waiting for her and they resume a conversation they were having conversation.

STUART
So what’s happening now?

DIANE
This is what I call the transition. Most our customers have eaten, now they want to relax and watch the storm. Now we mostly serve refreshments and snacks. The work eases up a bit now.

STUART
Quite an operation.

DIANE
Yeah, Floyd’s a great manager.

STUART
So I want to hear from the veterans. Where would you direct me?

DIANE
Well I’ve been here since this place opened four years ago.

STUART
Has anybody been here since the first Floyd’s Seafood?

DIANE
Most of them left at some point. (almost reluctantly) I think the only other girl whose been here the whole time would be Lisa.

STUART
Okay, where’s she?

DIANE
3rd floor, finishing up the lunch meals.

STUART
Alright, thanks, you’ve been a great help.

DIANE
I recommend you ask her about Floyd. She knows him better than anybody else here ever would.

STUART
(processes that remark, looks intrigued and a little amused)
Okay, will do.

Stuart exits up the stairs. Diane rubs her eyes with her hands and sighs.

INT. FLOYD’S SEAFOOD, 3RD FLOOR.

Stuart reaches the top of the stairs, sees Lisa. He waits for her at the wait station and they begin talking while she works. She looks moderately angry and pre-occupied. Conversation is not audible above the storm and the ambient noise of the restaurant. According to the clock on the wall it is 1:15.

INT. FLOYD’S SEAFOOD, 1ST FLOOR.

Floyd enters from the kitchen and begins working at the bar. Diane approaches him.

DIANE
So we’re running low on tonic and Seven Up.

FLOYD
Who’s on re-stock?

DIANE
Can’t you go get it? Jamie’s being run off her feet.

FLOYD
Fucking Christ, I have to do everything!

DIANE
Floyd!?

FLOYD
Anything else you need? While I play errand boy and workhorse?

She turns away. Floyd watches her and the surrounding customers self-consciously, then leaves the bar area for the kitchen.

JAMIE
That’s not like him.

DIANE
He needs some slack today. I think things with he and Lisa have come to a head.

JAMIE
What exactly is it between those two?

DIANE
Oh they’re in love. They’ve been having an affair off and on this last year.

JAMIE
Floyd’s married?

DIANE
And his wife owns most of the restaurant. She’s almost ended it with him cause of Lisa.

JAMIE
Ouch.

DIANE
Yeah.

JAMIE
Too bad they couldn’t save their quarrel for a normal day.

DIANE
Yeah.

JAMIE
These crazy kids.

They laugh.

CUT TO:
INT. KITCHEN.

Floyd makes his way through the kitchen to the walk-in refrigerator. He hastily takes refills of Seven-Up and tonic off the shelves and knocks over a bunch of boxes and bottles while doing so. A couple bottles break on the floor.

FLOYD
Motherfucker!

He drops the refills to the floor near the door, goes out into the kitchen and finds a broom and starts cleaning up the glass, then gets a mop and starts cleaning up the mess.

KITCHEN WORKER
You okay, Floyd?

FLOYD
I’m fine. Keep your mind on your job.

The kitchen worker walks away. Floyd puts the mop and broom back where they belong. He takes a few deep breaths, obviously begins thinking of something else, Lisa, then picks up the refills and heads back to the bar.

INT. FLOYD’S SEAFOOD, 1ST FLOOR.

Floyd gets behind the bar and plugs the refills into the bar taps under the sink. Lisa and Jamie look at him pityingly. By the clock on the wall it is 1:45.

FLOYD
Cover for me guys.

Floyd heads up the stairs to the 3rd floor. He sees Lisa speaking with the reporter Stuart at the wait station. He approaches. Lisa looks up at him sharply and Stuart follows her gaze.

FLOYD
Hey you two.

STUART
Floyd.

FLOYD
Look, um, you can have your interview with me when you’re ready.

STUART
(proddingly)
Not too busy?

FLOYD
Just tell me when you’re ready.

LISA
Jamie and Diane seemed pretty busy down there.

FLOYD
It’s okay. I’ve got what I want to say in order.

STUART
Alright, let me just finish up with Lisa. A few moments?

FLOYD
Okay. Lisa, I’d like to talk to you too. I can sign you your last check.

STUART
Last check?

FLOYD
You didn’t tell him you’re quitting.

LISA
(looks at Floyd, then at Stuart)
I’m quitting.

Lisa takes a tray from a food runner and heads back to a table. Stuart looks intrigued.

He exits down the stairs. Stuart watches after him, then turns to see Lisa watching him as well.

STUART
But maybe I could find a way to work it in.

EXT./INT. ZOOM IN ON RAY’S SUV ON HWY 101.

Cobb is driving slowly and carefully, maneuvering around rocks and fallen trees. Nothing obstructs their way enough that they have to stop. Ray opens a backpack at his feet and takes out a ream of blue architectural paper. He turns towards the three in the backseat. Willis asleep, Gary and Blue turn towards Ray.

RAY
Lets go over the details.

GARY
Alright. (shoves Willis) Willis, wake your ass up.

WILLIS
Fuck.

GARY
Listen up.

RAY
Alright. This is the restaurant.

Ray unfolds the paper and it is a floor plan of Floyd’s Seafood with the 3 different levels.

GARY
Nice. Where you get that?

RAY
(ignores the question)
This is where we come in.

Points to the plan as he describes the heist. The three in the back hunch forward.

RAY
There’s gonna be a lot of employees here. We’re gonna take care of them first. Put them all on the floor here, in this sunken space. Gary, you babysit them the whole time. There are three levels of customers. Two of us are gonna go up these stairs. Blue and Willis, how ‘bout.

BLUE AND WILLIS
Aight.

RAY
You round up the customers. Take them all downstairs too. Eventually we’re gonna have all of them in this sunken area on the first floor. Everyone face down on the floor, hands behind their backs.

BLUE
We takin all they wallets?

RAY
Whatever we find we keep.

GARY
We ain’t gonna find nothin on the kitchen workers.

RAY
No, but these tourists are fucking loaded. Trust me. All kinds of cash flows in and outta this restaurant.

GARY
Aight.

RAY
Like I said, me and Cobb are going into the kitchen, and Cobb’s taking the workers back to the sunken area. Then he’s clearing the registers. Each one’s got a safe and he knows whose got the key.

GARY
How’s he know that?

COBB
I used to work there. I was a bus-boy.

GARY
And what you doin Ray?

RAY
I’m going up here, to Floyd’s office. Floyd will be in his office, and he’s got a big fat safe in it. I’m gonna go in there, beat the combination out of him, and make off with all the cash he’s got.

WILLIS
How much we talkin?

RAY
A lot. $200,000 to $250,000. With that, the wallets, and the cash registers, we’re gonna clear $275,000 easy.

GARY
Not too bad.

WILLIS
This a pretty big-ass place.

RAY
Yeah.

WILLIS
How many heads we talking altogether?

RAY
Fifty or sixty.

WILLIS
Shit. That’s a lotta motherfuckers.

GARY
Y’all know what that means?

WILLIS
Sure do.

GARY
Means we can’t take no shit.

WILLIS
Uh-huh.

GARY
Can’t take no shit. We gotta get respect. We gotta make sure everybody in that place knows who’s boss.

WILLIS
We gotta fuck some bitches up.

GARY
That’s right. Anybody gives you lip, and I mean any kind of lip, a word, even a slant-eyed look, you knock that bitch down. Fuck his ass up. Be loud as all hell.

WILLIS
That’s right.

GARY
Motherfuckers step to you, light they ass up. Right there.

WILLIS
Uh-huh.

Gary claps Cobb on the shoulder.

GARY
You up for it homeboy?

COBB
Don’t worry about me. I’ll do what I got to. (looks at Ray) Can’t be so sure about my bro here.

GARY
What you say?

Ray looks angrily at Cobb.

COBB
Nothing. Lets just say Ray’s got pussy on the brain.

They all fall silent, Ray angry and Cobb gleeful.

ZOOM OUT OF SUV. THEY PASS THE SIGN LISA PASSED EARLIER, THEY ARE 10 MILES FROM FLOYD’S.